


Better Late Than Never

by Brate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-05-31
Packaged: 2017-11-06 10:34:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/417882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brate/pseuds/Brate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is late, and Sam is getting worried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Late Than Never

His hand beating a rhythm on his knee, Sam craned his head to peer down the street, first one way, then the other. Of course, he would actually be able to hear the Impala before seeing it, but that didn't keep him from looking.

The library had closed forty-five minutes—Sam checked his watch—make that an hour ago, and still no sign of Dean. His brother's phone went straight to voicemail, where Sam had already left three increasingly hostile messages. 

Sam was contemplating walking back to the motel when his phone rang. _Dean_. Instantly, Sam stood and answered the call. "Where the hell are you?"

"Actually—"

"I think we're after a sliver cat," Sam said. "I found some info in the archives pointing to its eating cycle."

"Yeah, I think you're right about that."

Sam paused. He realized he hadn't let his brother answer the initial question. "Dean, where are you?"

"In a hole."

"A hole," Sam repeated. "What hole? Where?"

The answer came less readily and in a lower volume. "In the middle of Markon State Park."

"Damn it, Dean, I told you not to go out there until we were sure what we were looking for."

"Yeah, well, I never listen to you."

"Where exactly are you?" Sam sighed.

"I parked at the end of the fire road and walked in."

Picturing the place, Sam nodded into the phone. "We'd better conserve your battery. I'll call you when I get there."

"Okey dokey."

Sam ended the call and looked around. He needed a car. 

*****

Parking the stolen Honda, Sam got out and crossed to the Impala. He opened the trunk and threw his laptop satchel inside, then grabbed a flashlight, rope, and a shotgun. A stash of the special ammo went into his pocket in case the sliver cat showed. 

When he was as ready as he could be, Sam pulled out his cell phone. As soon as Dean answered, he asked, "How far in are you?"

"I walked about a mile down the road, before I headed north into the woods."

They disconnected. Sam looped the length of coiled rope over his shoulder, flipped on the light, and headed down the fire road. At approximately a mile, he turned, and phoned Dean again, tensing as he waited for his brother to answer.

"Where are you?" Dean asked.

"I just left the fire road, heading north," Sam replied. "What do I need to look for?"

"Trees. Lots and lots of trees."

"Dean…"

"What do you want me to say, Sam? It's not like I marked my path with iridescent spray paint. I was following a noise."

"Fine, okay." Sam sighed. "How long do I head north?"

Dean paused. "I don't think I went that far. I'd say hang up the phone, walk for five minutes at a steady pace, then start yelling for me. When I hear you, I'll answer."

"That's an excellent strategy. Luckily, we're in a tiny, two hundred square mile park. I'm sure that'll work, no problem."

"I didn't plan this, Sam," Dean snapped. "I don't have a fucking flare to shoot into the sky. I wasn't expecting to be out this long, so I don't have a flashlight, and I can't send up the freaking bat signal. This is all I got."

"Okay, okay," Sam relented. "Just…make sure you listen for me."

After walking for a few minutes, Sam started calling for his brother, pausing between each summons to listen for a response. A dozen rounds of "Dean!" and Sam changed to "Marco!"

Finally, he heard a faint call to his left. He moved quickly in that direction. "Dean!" Sam shouted again.

"Polo!" came the answer. 

"Yeah, we're not doing that anymore, Dean."

"You just never want to play because you always lose," Dean alleged. 

Sam watched his step as he drew closer, not wanting to fall into the same hole that had caught his brother. Ahead, he saw solid blackness that could only be his target; just to the side lay an odd lump. As he swung the flashlight around, it highlighted the corpse of a sliver cat.

"It's dead," Sam said inanely.

Dean said, "Yeah."

"You killed it."

"Yeah."

"But how—? Wha—?"

Dean laughed. "Sammy, you get me out of this hole and I'll tell you all about 'Dean the Mighty Hunter.'"

Sam was impressed—sliver cats were notoriously hard to kill. That Dean had been able to kill it without knowing what _it_ was, and without being injured in the process….

Sam stilled. He hadn't asked if Dean was hurt. Oh my God, _he hadn't asked if Dean was hurt_. He'd just gotten bitchy and assumed Dean had fallen into the hole, but what if he'd—?

Kneeling at the edge of the pit, Sam tried to study his brother in the shadows. "Dean, are you okay?" He shined the light inside.

Raising a hand to shield his eyes, Dean growled, "No, Sam, I'm not. I'm stuck in a hole, and I would appreciate some help getting the hell out of it."

"All right, give me a minute." Sam dropped his supplies, tied the rope around his waist, and circled it around a nearby tree. He tossed the other end into the hole. "You got it?" he yelled.

"Yeah," Dean called back, "start pulling."

Sam started walking backward, using his weight and the tree's leverage to lift his brother. Within a few seconds, Dean's head popped out of the top, and he scrambled up the rest of the way, lying down on his back as he panted to the sky.

Sam untied the rope and walked over to Dean. He stood above him, looking down. "So, you gonna wait for help next time?"

Dean, covered in mud that clearly had come from futilely trying to climb his way out, answered, "Dude, at least I got the job done." He grinned, white teeth stark against his grimy face.

Sam couldn't argue with that.


End file.
